


Beneath a Starry Sky

by VulpesVulpes713



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Laith, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Season/Series 08 Finale, Voltron, klance, klance fluff, vld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17571683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VulpesVulpes713/pseuds/VulpesVulpes713
Summary: Just a confession under the stars.





	Beneath a Starry Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](https://stixy-art.tumblr.com/post/182303821035/sky) art

They were in their favourite spot - on the small hill just behind the farmhouse - gazing up at the sky.

It was incredible, Lance thought, how the darkness above could continue to bring him ease, despite the toil space took on them all. Maybe it was because he knew in his heart that the universe surrounding their planet was no longer hostile and unfamiliar. 

It was safe now. Comforting. Like being in the embrace of a loved one.

Which made sense, seeing as the universe was now someone he knew well. 

He sighs, closing his eyes as his chest rises and falls with the breath. 

“Crazy to think we were up there, hey?” he ponders aloud, saying whatever is on his mind because he’s with Keith, and Keith - like the space around them - is comfortable. Safe. Familiar. Keith’s presence is a constant source of reassurance, and Lance subconsciously shifts closer on the grass. “Like, we’ve been to those stars. Traveled those expanses of black between them…it’s just…kinda crazy, don’t cha think?” 

Keith is silent for a moment as he thinks, and his reply is about as Keith as Keith can get.

“Not really,” he grunts. “I mean, I still go up there all the time for work. It’s more of an annoyance than anything.”

And Lance laughs, feeling Keith’s gaze snap to his face as he does.

“Was that the wrong thing to say?” 

“No, no-” Lance reassures, inhaling deeply to calm the giggles. “You’re right. Maybe the crazy one is just me.”

Another silence - one that Keith doesn’t fill - and when Lance glances over he sees the boy staring unblinkingly up at the stars: face a mask with constellations reflected in his eyes. 

“Keith-?” Lance tries, but is cut off by the boys next words: whispered and hesitant. 

“You’re not crazy. I don’t think that at all.”

Lance feels his mouth fall open, jest ready and waiting to eliminate the unease, but it never falls passed his lips. The mood isn’t right for it, so he swallows and fixes his gaze back up to the heavens as his cheeks warm and his pulse jumps in his throat. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, but Keith isn’t finished.

“In fact, I think you’re amazing. And I don’t tell you enough. You’re incredible, and I’ve admired you for a really long time.”

“Kei-” Lance starts, but his tongue feels heavy and useless, reluctant to speak the name lest the sweet taste of it leave his mouth. And then something presses against his fingers, and Lance holds his breath as Keith’s hand finds its way into his. 

“You could even say that  _I’m_  the crazy one, for having kept this to myself all these years, denying it because I was…” but he trails off, sentence lingering in the night air that Lance refuses to breathe. Because this is a dream, surely. It’s not real. 

But the heat in Keith’s palm tells him otherwise. 

“You were what?” he whispers: words more of an exhale than anything. But Keith hears them, and his grip on Lance’s fingers tightens briefly. 

“I was scared.”

Lance feels his eyes dart over in Keith’s direction, but they don’t stay long. It’s as if staring at Keith in this moment of vulnerability is illegal, and Lance can’t bring himself to be caught just yet. 

So he blinks back up at the sky, wondering if it’s his imagination that’s making the stars glow brighter, and tries to make sense of Keith’s words. 

“But you’re not scared of anything,” he states, eyebrows knitting together as he attempts picturing Keith in a situation where he’d shown fear. “You’re  _Keith!_  You’re brave and strong and – and you’re a  _real_  hero! You fight for others and you do it without holding back. You’re fearless. You’re not scared of anything.”

He thinks the words with conviction, but when spoken they come out weary and unsure, and when Keith sighs in denial, Lance can’t find the strength to rebut his claims.

“I’m scared of a lot of things, Lance. I’m scared of losing those I hold close. I’m scared of watching them leave, not knowing if they’ll come back. I’m scared that I won’t be able to protect them when the time comes.” A pause – in which Keith inhales shakily – but still Lance keeps his gaze fixed upwards. 

This is all too much: hearing these things from Keith. It’s frightening, because Keith is supposed to be his steadfast pillar of strength, and for Lance to hear now that the boy’s been scared this whole time - that he’s had fears of his own that have gone unspoken for so long - it makes him feel guilty. Makes him feel selfish, and weak, and undeserving.

And it’s Keith’s next words that really send that message home.

“I’m scared, Lance, that I’ll spend my entire life in cowardice, too afraid to admit how I feel. And I can’t live like that. Not anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” Lance wonders hesitantly, but Keith doesn’t answer. Instead, his head turns on the grass: eyes reflecting the constellations that Lance still refuses to meet. 

“Lance?”

“Yeah?” he breathes, pulse racing. Fingers tighten in his own, and a small infinity grows between them.

“I think I love you.”

“Wh-” Lance splutters, heart leaping into his esophagus as his eyes widen and blood rushes into his face.  _“What?!”_

Because there’s no way. Keith didn’t mean it. He couldn’t have, could he? He didn’t feel that way –  _doesn’t_. It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. It’s-

“Crazy, right?” Keith chuckles softly, and the hesitation Lance experienced in that brief unending moment dissipates in the space around them. He turns his head, and allows himself to stare over into Keith’s eyes. 

Yeah, it’s crazy, hearing Keith talk like this. But the weirdest part of it all is the lack of denial on Lance’s part. Keith’s words – his confession – aren’t met with fear or panic. Rather, all Lance feels is relief, but that doesn’t stop him from questioning it. 

“Do you mean it?” he hears himself ask, and the smile that he’s given in response does more for an answer than the words spoken next. 

“Yeah, I do. Have for a long time now.”

Lance knows his cheeks are blazing, even in the darkness of the night, but Keith’s expression is so fond. So  _tender_. It’s so  _in love_  that Lance can’t help but melt at the sight of it.

“But… _why?”_

Keith snorts, smile growing as his shoulders bounce against the grass beneath them, and when he glances back his eyes are crescent moons: bright and cheery and captivating…Lance can’t look away.

“Why not?” is all he says, and Lance coughs as his heart forgets how to beat in proper rhythm. 

“Why  _not?”_  he repeats, incredulous, sitting up abruptly. His head spins, and he’s unsure if it’s because of the sudden upward movement or because of the bountiful emotions vying for first place in his mind. Whatever the cause, he pinches the bridge of his nose to fend off the feeling of dizziness and searches for reason. 

“Because I’m…and I- well,” he huffs, tossing his hands in the air and breaking the connection of Keith’s fingers against his own. “Because it’s  _me!”_

“Exactly,” Keith answers smoothly, mimicking Lance and raising up on his elbows. “It’s you. And I love everything about you.” 

His pulse is audible in the night, and Lance tries inhaling to soothe it. Though it doesn’t help much, the cool intake of air works to clear his head, and he shoots a quizzical look Keith’s way.

“I thought you said you only  _think_  you lo-” he breaks off, finding himself unable to speak the word, as if hearing it from his own mouth would only verify its truth. Keith shrugs, understanding what Lance means regardless of the sentence going unfinished. 

“I changed my mind. I don’t think I love you.”

Lance’s stomach drops, and he feels his mouth fall open as panic begins to settle in his bones. 

But Keith doesn’t allow it to take hold, and leans forward the rest of the way so they’re eye level once more. A hand reaches out to cover his, and Lance sighs against his will as the warmth it brings shoots up his arm to ease the growing fear. 

Keith smiles, tilting his head to the side as he sinks closer.

“Yeah. There’s no _think_ about it. I  _know_  I love you. And I’m not scared to say it.”

It’s all Lance can do to inhale sharply once before Keith’s lips are on his own, shy and delicate, as if Lance were something fragile that might break beneath him should he press too hard. 

And for a moment Lance agrees, and every particle of his being feels ready to explode as Keith’s breath tickles his cheek: hot and gentle, shooting goosebumps across his skin as fire ignites in the coldest corners of his veins.

It would be nice to just pretend that he was something weak and dainty, needing tender care and affection to survive. Because it’s easier that way, accepting love without retribution: becoming an object of one’s affections.

But Lance isn’t made of glass. He’s not a snowflake to be admired, or a shell to be handled with care. Sure, he has his broken pieces – sharp edges and rough corners that require a more delicate touch – but he’s not water held in cupped hands. He’s not going anywhere should the grip loosen and break: the attentions leave for even a moment.  

And he’s not about to let Keith think that.

So he pushes forward, swallowing the gasp of surprise that comes from the lips against his own, and lets Keith know that there’s no reason to be scared. They sink back to the grass - the weight of Lance leaning into Keith too much for his arms to support - and break apart as gravity brings awareness. 

“Oh-” Keith hums: cheeks pink and grin endearing. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Lance chuckles back, and closes the space between them. He’s not sure why it feels so right, but there’s not a single fiber in his body telling him to stop: to reconsider or argue or fight it. 

There’s only bliss: overwhelming sensations of joy. 

Because Keith loves him, and Lance can accept it. Can thrive with it. Can finally admit that those feelings he’s been harbouring were never wrong or misplaced.

He doesn’t feel guilty about letting himself kiss the boy beneath him, about smiling with each parting, only to laugh and blush and try it all again. And he thinks that maybe, all along, he’s loved Keith as well. 

No…not thinks.

He  _knows_  it. 

And above them, the stars shine just a little bit brighter, the universe watching over them contently: constellations twinkling and sparkly, like the smile of someone they once knew.    


End file.
